


The Chimes of the Clock

by Nisachan666



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aborted Execution, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Blackmail, Blood Kink, Body Dysphoria, Demon Summoning, Demonic Possession, Gaslamp Fantasy, Multi, Mute Persona 5 Protagonist, Not Beta Read, Polyamory, Polythieves (Persona 5), Trans Male Character, Trans Sakamoto Ryuji, Transphobia, deadnaming, tokophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25404385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nisachan666/pseuds/Nisachan666
Summary: Framed for a crime that he did not commit and cannot defend himself against, Akira is sentenced to death by hanging. But he soon finds that there is a demon all too willing to help him out of his fate, for a brief taste of freedom. With that vow made, the Gentleman Thief known as Joker is born.Tags to be updated as the fic progresses.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Arsene/Kurusu Akira, Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira, Kurusu Akira/Niijima Makoto, Kurusu Akira/Okumura Haru, Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji, Kurusu Akira/Sakura Futaba, Kurusu Akira/Takamaki Ann, Persona 5 Protagonist/Phantom Thieves of Hearts, Phantom Thieves of Hearts/Phantom Thieves of Hearts
Comments: 23
Kudos: 87
Collections: Epic Stories





	1. A Necklace and a Noose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira's work for a rising star in the world of politics takes a sharp turn for the worse when he interrupts his employer at his most dangerous.

**March 1890**

Master Shido's soiree had been a success, on every possible level. As the newest rising star on the political stage, he had dazzled his guests with wit and charm. There was no guest left unattended, and they closed the evening safe in the knowledge that he was one of those lucky souls destined for greatness. He had spent the rest of the evening sequestered away with his closest confidants, plying them with words of friendship and good brandy.

As he went to clear away the scattered brandy glasses, Akira knew this to be the time when the master was most dangerous. This was Master Shido's chance to indulge, and it was well known amongst the servants that to cross his path at this time was akin to welcoming misfortune into your life. It was Akira's first soiree, so he only knew the rumours that he had overheard in the lead up to this evening's festivities.

Eyes down, he entered the receiving room. He breathed out a whispered sigh of relief to see the room empty. Setting the tray down, Akira gathered the glasses as quickly and quietly as he could. All he needed to do was leave the room without coming across Master Shido, especially if the sparse remains in the brandy decanter were any indication.

There was a crash from behind the closed study door. Akira's fingers hovered over the last of the glasses.

"Just stop struggling."

"Stop it!"

Akira felt his eyes drift to the closed door, swallowing reflexively. He recognised the second voice as one of the kitchen maids, only a little more experienced than him. She must have caught him at the wrong time. There was a sudden rip of cloth and an aborted scream.

"How dare you cross me."

"Stop it! Let me go! No...!"

"Don't give me that."

The sound of an open-handed slap. A cry of pain. Akira found himself by the study door, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He couldn't breathe.

"P-please... Stop!"

The kitchen maid was now sobbing quietly. Akira heard Master Shido heave a weary sigh.

"What a waste of time. You think you're worth causing me trouble?"

Akira's hand settled on the doorknob. This was a bad idea. If he were smart, he'd turn around, finish the tidying he'd been assigned, and leave without anyone being the wiser. But he would know. He wouldn't be able to sleep with that knowledge over his head. He opened the door.

The kitchen maid was pushed back against the bureau, her dress ripped open at the neck, her cheek blazing red, her fingers clutching at the wood behind her as she blinked back tears. Master Shido was listing heavily against her, one hand casually resting on her throat, the other reaching for a switch on his desk. Akira inhaled sharply, not quite sure what to do now that he had made that first step. The maid locked eyes with him and stilled. Shido must have noticed the change, as he raised his head a fraction, throwing a dazed look of annoyance over his shoulder. 

"Your services are not needed here, boy. You would be best leaving and forgetting that you ever saw this," he said, turning his torso to get a better look at him. 

Akira felt his resolve harden in his chest. He'd heard the worst before, but there was something about seeing it with his own eyes that made disgust curl up inside him. He stepped further into the room, grabbing the switch before his employer could. Shido halted, rounding on him with murder in his eyes. Akira jerked his head towards the open door, hoping that the maid would understand his intent.

"Boy. You have one chance to get out of this. Give me the switch and leave, and I will forget that you crossed me," Shido said, his drunken flush darkening.

Akira shook his head, drawing the switch to his chest, the firm wood cool beneath his trembling fingers. The maid caught his eye again and nodded, a shaky smile on her face as she fled the room.

"We aren't finished here!"

Shido turned back to the bureau, but in his haste he lost his balance. There was a sharp crack as his head hit the corner, blood splattering over the wood. Akira didn't waste any more time, throwing the switch into the corner of the room. He ran out of the house until his already-laboured breath was a constant shrill wheeze. He sat on the street corner, his head in his hands, focusing on the comforting murmur of voices from a nearby mews. He wasn't sure whether he wanted Shido dead or not, but either way he knew that whatever came next wouldn't be pretty.

* * *

When he snuck back to the house just before sunrise, face drawn and pale from his frantic sleepless night, Akira was surprised to see no real sign that anything had gone on the night before. Peeking into the receiving room, there was no sign that the evening had gone any other way than expected. There was no sign of Master Shido having woken for the day, but that was not unusual for the morning after a social function.

It was only when Akira and the other servants were summoned to the dining room that it started to dawn on him just how badly he had messed up. A policeman paced in front of them, looking them over intensely.

"I expect that you're wondering why you've all been called here. A theft has been committed, during which the thief attacked and injured Mr Masayoshi Shido," he said. "We have reason to believe that the thief was familiar with the house, so we will be questioning everyone and searching through the servants' quarters."

There was no-one quite brave enough to ask what had been stolen, but as people began to trail back in from being questioned, it became apparent. Master Shido was in possession of some apparently exemplary jewels, known colloquially as the Ark Diamonds, set in a necklace of legendary beauty. It had been passed down his family line, but none of the servants had ever seen it before that day, given that Shido had yet to take a wife. The mere idea that anyone would be bold enough to steal it was enough to fuel gossip for hours. Akira felt sick with worry every time someone came out of questioning.

Eventually it was his turn. His parents waved him in, their own interrogation yet to come. He wondered if he looked as scared as he felt. He sat opposite the police officers, gaze darting around the cramped room. 

"State your name for the record."

Akira sighed and shook his head. 

"Come on lad, speak up."

With another sigh, he shook his head and held his fingers crossed over his throat. The second policeman looked at him with a dawning comprehension.

"You can't speak?"

Akira nodded. The first policeman groaned and started writing in his notebook with angry stabs of his pencil.

"Just my fucking luck."

The rest of the interrogation was painful, the officers twisting their original questions into ever more convoluted yes/no questions. His head hurt by the end of it, but he had a fleeting feeling of relief that it was all over.

Would that it were. A mere two hours later and he felt a firm grip on each of his upper arms. 

"And how do you explain this?" the first policeman said, dangling the necklace in front of him.

It was a gaudy thing, he realised. Valuable yes, but completely lacking in taste. The blue-white luster of the diamonds was overwhelmed by the heavy dark gold of the setting, with only the central nutmeg-sized stone able to hold its own.

"Did you really think we wouldn't look under the mattress? What kind of amateurs do you take us for?"

Akira knew that he should be struggling, trying to get himself out of the situation, but he couldn't seem to move or think straight. Like a watch left to wind down, he could feel himself start to shut down. At the end of the corridor, he could see Master Shido, a bandage on his forehead and a cold smile of satisfaction on his lips.

"Akira Kurusu, you are under arrest for the theft of the Ark Diamonds and the attempted murder of Masayoshi Shido." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter is up and apart from my accidental early posting, I'm reasonably happy. This part is based on the short story, "The Queen's Necklace", partly because it's the closest we get to Arsene Lupin's official backstory, and partly because I just wasn't comfortable making the confrontation between Akira and Shido as rapey as it was in the original game. I'm not fond of sexual assault as a reason for other male characters to be a hero, so just some plain corporal punishment interrupted instead.


	2. The Pillager of Twilight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things look bleak for Akira after a sham trial condemns him to the gallows. Just as he is trying to accept his fate, an otherworldly figure offers him a deal.

**March 1890**

A single day. That was all it took to seal his fate. Akira had known that his chances of being declared innocent were slim at best, but he'd not expected the raw aggression that he'd seen on display.

Given Shido's rising societal status and the valuable nature of the jewels involved, the case became the talk of the capital. Sitting on the stand, Akira had struggled to think over the din of the crowd, all eager to take a look at him. Before proceedings began he had looked back and spotted his parents. They looked at him like they were strangers. Somehow that cool detachment was worse than the hostility from the rest of the crowd.

The evidence was against him from the start. Though he had no prior convictions that would normally prejudice the jury against him, there was no real way to explain away the necklace's presence amongst his belongings without casting aspersions on Shido himself or one of his fellow servants. He briefly thought of the kitchen maid, the one friendly face in the crowd, and couldn't bring himself to get her involved in all of this. 

First came the case against him, along with witness testimonies from people who had almost certainly all been bribed or threatened before the trial started. Akira tuned most of it out. The only part he took notice of was the statement read out on behalf of Shido, who had missed the trial due to "poor health following the brutal attack on his life". Akira had never wanted to rend someone limb from limb more than that moment. 

Akira slowly wrote out his defence, his handwriting spidery and halting. It was read out to the court, and by the end Akira could barely hear the lawyer under the jeering of the public gallery. The Petty Jury were little better, exchanging dark looks. After the crowd had been calmed down, the judge asked if he had any further witnesses. He did not.

It took the jury mere minutes to pronounce him guilty. 

The judge nodded solemnly and said, "The court doth order you to be taken from hence to the place from whence you came, and thence to the place of execution, and that you be hanged by the neck until you are dead, and that your body be afterward buried within the precincts of the prison in which you shall be confined after your conviction."

Akira couldn't breathe. The judge paused and glared down at him.

"And may the Lord have mercy upon your soul," he declared.

* * *

It was unusual for Yoshida to notice new arrivals at the prison, but generally they didn't faint on top of him. They had just been let out into the yard, several men taking the opportunity to complain about the ache in their limbs. Yoshida paid them no mind and so missed the shout of warning. Before he knew it, he was on the ground, a gangly-limbed boy slumped over his back. Disentangling himself, he turned to see the boy in question. The boy was laid out on the ground, hair newly shaved close to his head, a sliver of grey eyes visible beneath fluttering lids, his breathing worryingly fast. The two warders assigned to him looked down at him in disgust as they lifted him up under the arms, body limp between them. Warders only accompanied those doomed to the gallows, he realised. His heart sank for this most unfortunate youth.

"Let me," he found himself saying, taking the boy's weight in his arms.

The boy eventually woke up with a start, trying to jerk upright on shaking limbs.

"Calm yourself. If you get up too quickly, you'll faint again."

The boy lay back, eyes fixed on him warily. After some time, his breathing quieted and his gaze was steady and calm. Yoshida smiled.

"There you go. Looking better already."

He helped the boy to his feet, ignoring the stares of the warders. He shook the hand already in his grasp. 

"Since you're feeling better, I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Toranosuke Yoshida. And you are?"

The boy had opened his mouth, but was interrupted by the guard. 

"Don't bother Yoshida. He's dumb."

The boy frowned, cheeks flushed red with shame.

"Can you read and write?" Yoshida asked, ignoring the warders.

The boy nodded, mouth curling up in a shy smile.

"Then I shall remember to bring pencil and paper tomorrow."

* * *

Yoshida had only known Akira for a week, and he already knew that there was no conceivable way that the boy was a would-be murderer. Akira's letters were slow to come to him, but there was a sharp wit behind the silence. Their conversations were the highlight of an otherwise dreary existence, and the idea of it ending with Akira's execution in a few weeks was almost too unfair to bear.

The conversations seemed to be a source of comfort to Akira as well, bringing his own paper after the first couple of days. Yoshida noted at the end of the first week that he was writing on the backs of the prison chaplain's tracts.

"Do you not read these?" Yoshida asked, looking one of them over. "Some of the men here take comfort in faith."

Akira's eyes darkened, deliberating as he wrote.

_What kind of just God would allow injustice like this?_

Akira gestured at the prison yard around them. He looked up at the sky, his expression sad and wistful. 

_There is no place for God here._

Akira added it almost as an afterthought. Yoshida couldn't bring himself to refute that.

* * *

Another week passed and Yoshida could see prison life weighing on Akira. Though he was quicker to smile during their conversations, Akira's face was getting thinner by the day. The warders kept a closer eye on him than they had previously, making sure that he didn't deprive the gallows of a soul. Akira ignored them as was his custom. He seemed eager to ask Yoshida something that morning. 

_Do you know who was in my cell before me?_

"I don't, I'm afraid. Why do you ask?" 

_I found something strange scratched into the floor at the back of my cell._

Akira proceeded to draw the mark. He was only partway into the drawing when Yoshida realised with a start what it was. He gently stopped Akira's hand. 

"I would advise not going any further with that. It will get you into trouble that you can ill afford." 

_What is it then?_

"That is a summoning circle. I imagine that whoever was in your cell before you was truly desperate." 

Akira pondered the words carefully. Encounters with demons were a rarity these days, given the way that the law had cracked down on practitioners. Those that did dabble in dark arts like this rarely even made it to the courthouse before they were torn apart by a terrified mob. Akira smiled, a grim twist of his lips. 

_I'm already condemned to die. What is a few days less to them?_

"I should be sad to see you waste what you have left," Yoshida said. 

Akira blinked. His smile softened slightly. 

_I apologise. I shouldn't make jokes like that. I will be on my best behaviour, I promise._

Yoshida wanted to believe that, but there was something in the boy's eyes that day that worried him.

* * *

**April 1890**

Truly desperate, huh? The bell tolled eight, each strike like a leaden weight in Akira's stomach. This time tomorrow, he would be dead. All because he'd done the right thing. If he could speak, he would scream. 

The tracts lay in a pile by the sink. He considered Yoshida's words a few weeks before, about taking comfort in faith. At this point, Akira was willing to try anything. Settling onto his knees, he closed his eyes and clasped his hands together. He took a few deep breaths and tried to word what he wanted. 

_Dear Lord, please grant me the strength to..._

The strength to what? The strength to be quiet and meek like he'd always been? The strength to take it like a beaten dog? He felt his fist hit the ground, anger blazing through his veins like fire. What use was there asking for comfort? At the end of the day, he would be just as dead. What he wanted to ask God for, he couldn't have. Justice. Vengeance. Vindication. Freedom. His fist kept slamming into the floor, his knuckles bloodied, eyes wild and staring. He only stopped when he couldn't feel his hand anymore and he was breathing like a set of bellows. He stared at the blood on his knuckles, red beads shining in the weak moonlight filtering through the bars. His eyes flickered over to the corner of the room where he knew the summoning circle was. He chewed his lip as he thought it over. It was a long shot but he didn't have much else available to him. Truly desperate indeed. He shuffled over to that corner, fingers feeling out the shallow scratches in the stone floor that he'd already memorised the shape of. He wiped the blood off of his knuckles, tracing the circle's outline with the tacky fluid. He left no part uncovered. When he was done, he sat back on his haunches and waited. 

At first nothing happened. Akira stood and washed his hand under the brackish water of his sink. He glanced back at the dark corner of the room where the circle was, then lay on his hard bed to try and get some rest. He wasn't sure why he was disappointed, but the failure sat heavy in his chest as he drifted into an uneasy sleep. 

He was woken by the quiet clinking of chains. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he felt his chest seize at the sight before him. A figure loomed over him, bending to take his chin gently in an inky clawed hand. 

"Thou art lucky that I was the one to answer thy summons," the figure said, its voice a deep masculine purr. "Anyone else would have seen an unsafe circle like that and eaten a delicious little morsel like thee." 

Akira felt the air still in his chest as the demon moved his head to get a better look at him. The demon was barely visible in the dark of the cell, but Akira could just about make out broad shoulders, a slim waist, a folded pair of wings sprouting from its lower back and a hellish approximation of a face traced out in red flames. It cocked its head at Akira's silence. 

"Mortal, I am the pillager of twilight, Arsene. State thy reason for summoning me. I may deem thee worthy of sharing my power with." 

Akira opened his mouth, a croak escaping his throat. He could barely hear it over the pounding of his heart. Arsene's smile widened, claws trailing down his throat. 

"Ah, to have no voice in a place such as this..." 

Arsene brought both of its hand to rest over Akira's temples, the claws biting into his scalp. 

"Will thou let me see instead?" 

Akira nodded. Arsene lowered its head until their foreheads met. With that touch, Akira found himself insensate, lost in a whirlwind of colour and noise that seemed to burst forth within his head. He came back to reality to the sound of rumbling laughter, the vibration a soothing touch down his body. He opened his eyes to see that the demon was straddling him on the bed, cradling him to its chest. From here, he could see more of Arsene, and the sight made him flush. From the waist up it was wearing a blood-red suit jacket over a trim waistcoat and frilled shirt. But rather than matching trousers, there were hip-high boots, the heels jagged knives pointing to the sky. Part gentleman, part harlot. Arsene was stroking his face with one hand, the other trailing down to rest on his throat. 

"Very well, I have heeded thy resolve. Vow to me, thou who art willing to perform all sacrilegious acts for thine own justice!" Arsene said, voice lowering back to a deep purr. "Show the strength of thy will to ascertain all on thine own, though thou be chained to Hell itself!" 

Akira hesitated briefly, wetting his lips unconsciously. Arsene watched him closely, eyes somehow conveying hunger. Akira raised a hand, cupping the demon's cheek. He nodded, mouth widening in a mad smile. What did he have left to lose? 

Arsene lowered its head again, pressing a kiss to his mouth, a brief spark of burning pleasure-pain that left Akira gasping. 

"Then our pact is made. Together we shall hunt and destroy thine enemies, and cleanse the world of their filth. I shall release thee from thy bonds tomorrow, if thou permit me to rest with thee tonight." 

Akira nodded again, closing his eyes. He fell back to sleep, his mind quiet for the first time since confronting Shido. He woke in the morning to no sign of the demon's presence, bar a scorched patch on the floor where the circle used to be.

* * *

Akira's execution was scheduled for that evening. Yoshida found him sat in the corner of the exercise yard, staring up at the sky, his customary stack of repurposed tracts on his lap and a smile on his face. Their conversation was deliberately casual, the threat of the noose cutting off anything more serious. There were only a few minutes before everyone was sent back to their labour when Akira frowned, his pencil hesitating above the paper for a moment. 

_Your debt is nearly paid off, isn't it? You'll be free soon._

Yoshida nodded, wondering why the boy was bringing this up now of all times. 

_Can you make me a promise for when you get out?_

"Of course, if it's within my power." 

_Remember me. I need to know that there's someone out there who knows that I didn't deserve this._

Yoshida had to read it a couple of times, his heart heavy. 

"That will be the very least that I can do." 

The bell tolled to signal the end of their break. Yoshida stood and pulled Akira to his feet, their grip shifting after a moment into a final handshake. 

"Goodbye Akira. I'll pray for you." 

_Goodbye Toranosuke. Thank you._

There was something strange about Akira's calm gaze just before they parted ways. Yoshida wasn't sure what it was, but it bothered him the rest of the day. When the eight o'clock bell was accompanied by panicked shouting and running guards, Yoshida realised what it was. Akira knew that something would happen. 

* * *

Stood on the trapdoor of the gallows, Akira could only hope that Arsene would come through for him, because at this point the demon was leaving it pretty fucking late. The irons were rubbing at his wrists and he desperately wanted it all to be over one way or another. A sackcloth bag was draped over his head, his world going dark. The noose was lowered and tightened against his throat, the hemp scratching at the skin. It was now or never. Arsene's laughter rang through his head, and Akira felt himself smile beneath the hood. 

_Do not doubt me. Trust that I shall always be by thy side._

Akira felt something push out through his skin, the chatter of the assembled guards halting abruptly at its presence. There was a moment of silence before Arsene's laughter started up again, accompanied by a single flap of great wings. Akira was surrounded by the sound of crashing as the guards were knocked from their feet. Flames licked up from his feet, quickly engulfing his body and burning through the hood and the noose. Akira grinned wildly, the room around him flickering in the unnatural blue light. The sound of footsteps grew closer, the guards pulling out their clubs to subdue him, but by then the room was already dimming, his form growing indistinct. Soon, there was nothing left of him but a blackened set of footprints.

Arsene and Akira rematerialised far outside the capital, the ruins of a barn within walking distance. Akira was still shaking from the adrenaline, his grin widening at the feel of the cool breeze on his skin. Arsene's arms caged him in, but there was something comforting in the knowledge that he could break out of the hold should he so wish. He reached up, hands still shackled in front of him, and pulled down Arsene's head to his.

He smiled and mouthed, "Thank you." 

Arsene's smile widened. 

"This is only the beginning, my dearest master. Thine enemies will regret ever coming into contact with thee." 

Beneath the stars, they consummated their beautiful, terrible pact. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow, this chapter ended up being way longer than I ever expected it being. Turns out that some of my research into Victorian court trials and prisons inspired a lot more about Akira's time spent in prison than I initially expected.  
> For those of you wondering about the weirdly short time that it takes for him to be tried, and then to the execution, the trial is meant to be maybe half a day (which seems to be on the longer side based on my brief reading) and the prison sentence waiting for his execution was around 3 weeks (based entirely on Oscar Wilde's "The Ballad of Reading Gaol", I am not sorry in the slightest).  
> Toranosuke Yoshida was an unexpected addition, but it seemed right to have him be a friendly face in debtors prison and I wanted there to be a reasonable way for Akira to get back into Shido's social circles. Turns out it may work out thematically too, so happy accident.  
> Arsene turned out to be a hell of a lot more flirtatious that I initially planned, hence the bump in age rating from Teen to Mature. Nothing much happens yet, but it would appear that the monster fucker in me might make an unexpected entrance.


	3. Goro Akechi Arrives Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years have passed since the odd events surrounding the attempted execution of Akira Kurusu. In those years, a new thief has captured the attention of the nation. Seldom glimpsed despite leaving his distinctive calling card at the scene of his crimes, Joker has baffled the police. The latest recipient of a calling card has upped the stakes by procuring the services of the equally legendary Detective Prince, Goro Akechi.

**June 1895**

Yoshida was certain that he recognised the young merchant staying with his host, but he couldn't put his finger on where he could have seen him before. Ren Amamiya was a quiet young man in his early twenties with a mop of black curls that no amount of styling seemed to tame and a pair of pince-nez obscuring what little could be seen of his eyes. He was apparently in the business of selling coffee and spices from providers elsewhere in the Empire, but somehow he couldn't see this gangly and awkward youth coping in such a cutthroat market. In any case, he seemed to be a pleasant enough young man, so the mild unease that the sight of him caused continued to trouble Yoshida. 

At present everyone was gathered in the dining hall of Thibermesnil manor, the remains of dinner being taken away, the air filled with lively discussion regarding the calling card that their host had received from Joker the night before. It was a simple enough message: _I am rather taken by some of the pieces in your sizeable collection, but I am reliably informed that you refuse to sell. Since you are so unreasonable, I shall be retrieving them from your care. Yours, Joker._

Their host, Youji Isshiki, was furious about the whole affair. 

"To think that anyone would be so bold as to threaten to steal my sister's artifacts. It is the only thing I have left of her," he said. "It is of no matter though. I have already sent for help, and I have no doubt that this will be the case where the infamous Joker is finally brought to justice." 

"So you have already informed the police?" Amamiya asked, examining the calling card. 

"No, better than that. I have called upon the services of the famed Detective Prince." 

This caught everyone's attention, even that of Isshiki's reclusive niece sewing in the corner. 

"Goro Akechi? Doesn't that seem a bit excessive?" Sakura asked, wary as always. 

"Indeed, I was under the impression that Akechi only took on... unusual cases," Amamiya added. "Did he mention what in particular drew him to this case?" 

"Other than the presence of Joker? There have been legends of a subterranean passage on the grounds, which I think may have tipped his hand," Isshiki said, waving his lit cigar as he spoke. 

His niece stiffened in her place at the table, her hand clenching around her lumpy sampler. 

"Are you sure that it's safe to talk about that? We don't know what kind of information Joker might have," she said, her voice quiet and hoarse from disuse. 

Isshiki narrowed his eyes at her. 

"I don't like what you're insinuating about my guests, Futaba. I would advise you to hold your tongue." 

There was a tense moment as they locked eyes. Sakura looked like he was a moment away from restraining Isshiki. Or strangling him, one of the two. Amamiya had sunk back into his chair, watching the two of them like a hawk. Yoshida was moments away from trying to soothe everyone when Futaba ducked her head and rushed out of the room. Sakura glared at their host and followed her out. 

"Stupid girl. Anyway, where was I?" Isshiki said, totally ignorant of the awkward atmosphere left in Futaba's wake. "Oh yes, the subterranean passage." 

Yoshida was uncomfortable enough with the whole situation that he tuned most of Isshiki's blathering out. Coming here had been a mistake, but after several years trying to re-establish himself in society he could hardly afford to deny an invitation, regardless of the unsavoury nature of the host. He caught some mention of a family secret that had died out with the last head of the previous line to live in this manor, but he was more focused on Amamiya. The young merchant had been largely silent throughout the evening, but seemed to grow animated with this new turn of conversation. He nodded at each pause in Isshiki's monologue, prompting him to continue, a cat-like smile on his face. 

"There's a riddle to go with the legend? I'm sure even Akechi will have issue with that," Amamiya said. 

"Well if we haven't had any luck with it after years of searching and study, then I don't know how much luck he'll have. It doesn't seem to make a great deal of sense, if I'm entirely honest." 

"Oh?" 

"The riddle goes: Turn one eye on the bee that shakes, the other eye will lead to God." 

Amamiya thought it over a moment and laughed, a surprisingly rich tone from such a waif of a man. 

"I have to agree with you. That riddle has stumped me." 

The clock struck 10, and Amamiya looked up at the clock near the mantelpiece. 

"I think I will take that as my cue to head off for the night. Thank you for the entertaining evening, gentlemen," he said, raising himself from his seat. 

He walked over to where Yoshida was sat, proffering his hand. 

"It was wonderful to meet you Mr Yoshida. I hope we get more opportunities to talk in future," he said. 

Yoshida met grey eyes over their handshake, and he realised with a start where he had seen Amamiya before. The only problem was that it should have been impossible. If Amamiya noticed his change in demeanour, he didn't let it show.

* * *

A few minutes after Yoshida had retired for the night, he had a knock on his bedroom door. He looked out to see Sakura there, looking distinctly unhappy. 

"Sorry for disturbing you so late. I have a favour to ask," Sakura said. 

"It's no trouble at all. Come in." 

"Normally I wouldn't bother you with something like this, but would you mind listening for anything strange overnight?" 

"I'm sure I could. Is something the matter?" 

"Just this nonsense with Joker. This collection is all that Futaba really has left of her mother, and the whole situation is stressful for her. Your room is closest to where it's kept, so would you mind? It would really put her mind at ease." 

"Of course. I might not be the Detective Prince, but I'll try to be of some use."

* * *

The secret mechanism was under his fingers, adrenaline sparking in his bones. Akira smiled and turned it, the newly oiled cogs spinning with nary a whisper. He heard Arsene chuckle in the back of his mind, still as enamoured with their escapades even after all these years. The bookcase swung out into the room, his prizes now in sight. He took a quick look around the room, but, as expected, there was nothing here to worry about. With everyone talking about the Detective Prince, they had lowered their defences. A happy accident, but one that he was eager to take advantage of. Extending a hand, he summoned Morgana, the tuxedo cat taking form on his shoulders. 

"Another job already, Joker?" he said, hopping nimbly down to the floor. "You can't just work your familiar to the bone, you know?" 

"But who else could do such a good job at sniffing out treasure? I've heard on some authority that there's a plethora of intriguing magic available here, and thought you would be mad if I left you out," Akira said, walking into the room beyond. 

Morgana sniffed the air and purred at what he found. 

"They were definitely right about that. And it's old magic too." 

Looking over the cabinets of carefully catalogued and displayed artifacts, Akira felt his smile widen. Given their Ancient Egyptian origin, he had hoped for something arcane, the older the better. Even through the glass of the display cases, he could feel the aura of their power all round him, like velvet on his skin. He could gloat later though. 

"Come on Mona, let's take these and we can bask in our spoils once we're done here." 

They made a careful circuit of the room, Morgana pointing out anything that was both powerful and portable. They hemmed and hawed over a particularly flawless death mask, but Akira knew that he'd never be able to transport it safely. The linen bag in his hands was almost full when he heard the catch move in the door behind him. He swore beneath his breath, pushing Morgana and the bag through the opening in the bookcase. 

"Get these outside. I'll meet you at the other end of the tunnel," he said, ignoring Morgana's yowl of protest and pushing the bookcase back into its original position.

He hid behind a nearby curtain, hoping that he would have enough time to dredge up enough magic to disappear into the shadows. Through the fabric, which he was now realising was quite a bit flimsier than he had initially hoped, he could see a figure step through the door, candle in hand. He held his breath and started casting his spell. The figure made a quick circuit of the room, throwing open every curtain on his way. Akira was halfway through the spell when his cover was blown. Yoshida looked at him, something approaching disappointment in his eyes. 

"I seem to have found myself in a bit of a bind. I don't suppose you would mind pretending that I'm not here, would you?" Akira asked. 

"Joker, I presume?" 

"In the flesh. Can I assume that you're a fan?" 

Yoshida grimaced and said, "Not as such. You're the Amamiya boy, aren't you?" 

Akira smiled, the bone white domino mask snug on his face, but didn't say anything. His cover name was on the line, so anything he said needed to be thought out with care. 

Yoshida continued, "Or would you rather I call you Kurusu?" 

Akira's thoughts ground to a halt. He could feel Arsene growl, hair standing on end from the intensity of it. Against his better judgement, he stepped closer and looked Yoshida in the eye. 

"That's not a name I've heard in a very long time," he said softly. "What do you intend to do with it?" 

"That will depend entirely on what you intend to do with these artifacts that you've stolen tonight." 

Akira arched an eyebrow. 

"I have a contact in the black market with a particular interest in magical items. Should there be anything that I could use in my line of work, I would keep it. Why, do you mean to stop me?" 

"If that is their fate, then yes." 

Akira scowled, but Yoshida seemed unfazed. 

"Why are you so invested in this? You might not think that they're mine to take, but Isshiki deserves them even less." 

Yoshida shook his head and sighed. 

"You misunderstand me. This isn't about Isshiki. His niece would be devastated to discover that her late mother's effects were stolen." 

Akira pondered that for a moment. 

_Ignore him. The man is just stalling for time. Thou should eliminate him._

He could feel Arsene getting restless, a prowling sensation just beneath his skin. 

"If you were that concerned, you could have called for help as soon as you discovered me. Why didn't you?" Akira asked, hoping that he wouldn't have to get rid of Yoshida. 

Yoshida seemed to mull over his words before he said, "The Kurusu I knew was a good man who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I wanted to see if that was still true." 

It was a low blow, but knowing that didn't make it less galling to hear. He thought of Futaba, already wilting and growing thin under her uncle's neglectful watch. 

_We are thieves, dearest. To steal is in our nature._

"Joker does not harm the innocent," he said, both to Yoshida and Arsene. "The artifacts are already gone, but I swear that they will be returned to her." 

Yoshida went to reply, but seemed to hear something outside, turning instinctively. Akira took the opportunity to disappear like he had initially intended. He slipped out before Yoshida could call anyone else into the room.

* * *

Goro Akechi was used to dealing with imbeciles in his line of work, but this one had to be a new low. 

"So you're telling me that Joker has already been and absconded with your valuables?" he asked, struggling to keep his smile pleasant. 

"Unfortunately, yes," Isshiki said, his embarrassment clear to all those gathered. 

Akechi noted that none present seemed terribly sympathetic towards Isshiki's plight. His niece was sat in a corner of the room, staring into the middle distance and stabbing herself in the thumb as she tried working on a truly awful sampler. Sakura was more concerned with the niece's wellbeing, looking thoroughly irritated whenever he was dragged back into the conversation. Yoshida was listening politely, but there was only so much that etiquette could mask. And Amamiya wasn't even trying to look interested, his whole focus on Akechi instead. 

"Fortune has nothing to do with it," he said, allowing some of his disdain to seep through. "If you hadn't announced my intended visit, Joker would have made his attempt at another time." 

"When?!" 

"The forecast for this evening is cloudy, so I would imagine he would have struck tonight, tomorrow at a stretch. If that had gone ahead as he planned, I would have caught him and he would be behind bars by now." 

Akechi stood and went to retrieve his satchel. 

"Where are you going?!" Isshiki said. 

"I am headed back to the capital. I fail to see what there is for me to do it here anymore, given that you have already been robbed." 

"But... What about the subterranean passage? If Joker managed to find it, what's to stop him coming and going at will?" 

Akechi sighed dramatically, but couldn't help the thrill that ran up his spine at the thought. It was perhaps immature to get excited about rediscovering a lost secret passage, like he was the hero of a penny dreadful detective story, but there was definite appeal to the idea. 

"I suppose you are paying for my time," he said, placing his satchel back down. 

The others took this as a sign that their presence was no longer required, filling out of the door. The last to leave was Amamiya, who paused on the threshold. He looked back at Akechi and strode across the floor. 

"I apologise for the sudden request, but I hope you will reconsider pursuing this Joker character. I believe Miss Isshiki would be most relieved to get her mother's effects back," he said, offering his hand. 

"I will think upon it. At the very least, I will know where to return them should I find items so distinctive as these," Akechi said, ignoring the gesture. 

"I suppose that is all I can ask for. Unfortunately, I have a train to catch soon. It is a pity, as I had hoped to see your work in action." 

"Oh?" Akechi asked. 

"Indeed. Believe me when I say that the Detective Prince has no more ardent admirer than myself," Amamiya said, a sly smile on his face. 

Akechi smiled, but gave him no further encouragement than that. He had more than his fair share of fans to deal with, and Amamiya would be no exception to the rule. Thankfully, Amamiya seemed content with that and left, citing his train again. 

Turning to Isshiki, Akechi said, "Now, tell me everything about this secret tunnel. Do not omit a single detail." 

After a, frankly quite painful, conversation, Akechi had a fairly good idea of how the robbery had been carried out. 

"Is there a chapel on the manor grounds by any chance?" he asked. 

"Yes, there are some ruins on the grounds. Why do you ask?" 

"Because it's the key to solving this whole mess. I need you to send a servant down to the chapel with a trap, and I will also need you to provide a ladder and a lantern." 

"What does the chapel have to do with this? I don't understa..." 

"Of course you don't. Just follow my instructions and everything will start making sense," Akechi said, resisting the urge to smother the man. 

Eventually a ladder was fetched, which he propped up against the bookcase built into the wall of the plundered reliquary room. Above the shelves, mostly blocked from sight from below, was a plaque reading "Thibermesnil". Running his fingers over the raised lettering, Akechi knew that he was close. 

"Observe. Turn one eye on the bee that shakes," he said, grasping the first letter I on the plaque and rotating it clockwise. 

It clicked into place once horizontal. He pushed at the letter B, the metal moving until it too clicked into place, now flush with the wall. He smiled triumphantly. 

"And the other eye," he said, placing a finger on the second I, "will lead to God!" 

The letter swung down on a hinge, the mechanism smoother than it should have been. Beneath him, there was a soft grinding as the bookcase opened onto a tunnel sloping gently downwards. He could hear Isshiki spluttering like a dying fish behind him. Hopping down from the ladder, he peered into the open doorway. A puddle of fresh oil was collected beneath the hinge. If there had been any doubt in his mind about how Joker had entered this room unseen, then that would be proof enough. Lighting the lantern, he gestured into the tunnel. 

"Please, you first." 

The tunnel was not terribly long, just under a third of a mile if Akechi's estimate was correct, but it was hardly a pleasant journey. Partway along the tunnel, there had been a steady dripping from the ceiling, and he couldn't help but wonder if they were now walking under the pond. At the other end of the tunnel, they were confronted by a wall, heavily worn by time. The mechanism to get out was simple enough to work out, even in the dim light of the lantern, and they soon found themselves in the ruins of the old chapel. Isshiki looked around in amazement. 

"To think, this was under my nose the entire time." 

Akechi was very tempted to say something uncharitable, but resisted the urge. The trap sat not far from the chapel, Sakura in one of the seats, a cigarette between his lips. 

"I take it you're headed to the station now that you're done?" Sakura asked, pointedly ignoring their host. 

"I think I will do. There isn't much more for me to do here now that the tunnel has been found," Akechi replied. 

He turned to Isshiki. 

"I would advise that you get additional locks for that passage. Joker is unlikely to use that method of entry again, but better safe than sorry." 

"And my artifacts?" 

Akechi shrugged and said, "If I come across them I shall return them to you posthaste, but I wouldn't get my hopes up. If nothing else, Joker is thorough when it comes to making these items disappear." 

With that, Akechi stepped up into the trap, his satchel already sat in the footwell. Sakura gave the driver his instructions and sat back, the trap rocking gently as it set off. 

Looking out at the passing countryside, Akechi said, "I am sorry that I was not here soon enough to prevent this theft. As it was, it was something of a waste coming out here." 

"Futaba did warn him not to talk about it, but he has always had more pride than sense," Sakura said, frown deepening. 

"You don't seem to be terribly fond of Isshiki. May I ask why you put up with his company? If that isn't too forward a question, of course." 

Sakura gave him a piercing look, an obvious assessment of his character. 

"Futaba's mother and I were engaged before she..." 

He paused, the breath catching in his throat briefly. 

"Before," he concluded. "Futaba seems to like my company, so I put up with her uncle's idiocy to make sure that she's doing well." 

Akechi smiled, genuinely this time. There were few men out there who would take the time to look out for an illegitimate foundling like Futaba Isshiki. 

"I see. Will you be back to visit her soon?" 

"I'm still staying here for the night. I received a telegram about something for me at the train station. I don't know why they couldn't deliver it to me, quite frankly. What a waste of a Sunday." 

Akechi frowned at that. To say that this was unusual was putting it lightly. They spent the rest of the journey to the station in thoughtful silence. Upon leaving the trap, they were hailed by an older gentleman with a long nose and beady eyes. 

He smiled, a little manically, and said, "Might I be speaking to Mr Goro Akechi and Mr Sojiro Sakura?" 

"You are," Akechi said, smiling politely. "How may we be of service?" 

"A colleague of mine asked me to make sure that these were delivered to you personally," he said, standing up from the bench he had perched on. 

Stood next to the bench was a young girl, white blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, golden eyes looking between them like she could see into their souls. Her arms were laden with a parcel and a book the size of a paving slab. As the older man approached, she followed him, always keeping precisely one step behind him. Once they were within touching distance, the man stopped, looming over them with unnatural height. He turned to the little girl, looking down at the items stacked in her arms. He plucked a letter from the top of the pile. 

"For Mr Sakura," he said, long thin fingers folded over the envelope. "I've been informed that you will want to act on their contents with haste." 

Sakura frowned and took the letter, looking over the heavy, expensive stationery with suspicion. He opened it, his frown deepening. 

" _Ask Futaba to show you her real room at the manor. Wait until Isshiki is out of earshot._ Not ominous at all," he said softly. 

"And for Mr Akechi," the man said, passing over the parcel. "A gesture from an admirer." 

Akechi looked down at the parcel, a red calling card tucked into the brown paper wrapping, his name written in flawless black calligraphy. Plucking the card from its loose hold in the wrapping, he turned it over, anticipation building in his chest. 

_My dearest rival, I am sorry that I was not able to face you in person on this occasion. I will not ask you whether you worked out that little puzzle with the passage, as I know that mystery would be a simple one for you._

Akechi smiled at the compliment, feeling a delicate flush rise up on his cheeks.

_Please accept this as a token of my deepest respect for your talents, and let it never be said that Joker breaks a promise. I hope we get the chance to cross swords again. Ever yours, Joker._

Akechi laid the box on the now-empty bench, ripping the paper from the top. Behind him he could feel the cool gazes of the old man and his charge, and the begrudgingly curious eyes of Sakura. Opening the box, he saw a collection of objects, each delicately wrapped in cloth. He opened them all to inspect, but he knew that these were the artifacts that had been stolen the night before. Eventually, they had all been accounted for, and there was still a single wrapped object laying in the bottom of the box. Akechi looked it over with confusion. Picking it up, he slowly unwrapped the object. 

"A pocket watch?" Sakura said, looking over his shoulder. 

Akechi stared at his mother's pocket watch, his empty hand desperately diving into the pocket that he always kept it in. The pocket was empty, gaping accusingly at his grasping hand. 

"It's a shot across the bow," he said, attaching the watch back onto his waistcoat, deliberately keeping his voice clipped and polite. 

He knew that he had gone too far the other way into excessive civility, given Sakura's odd look his way, but in the moment he couldn't care less. If he weren't in a public place, he would be howling his frustration into the sky. As it was, his jaw ached from grinding his teeth, a small animal part of his brain screaming at him to rend and tear at those around him. 

"Would you be so kind as to take these back to the manor and restore them to their rightful place? I'm afraid my train will be here shortly, so I will not be able to return these personally," he said, avoiding Sakura's eyes. 

He didn't wait for Sakura's reply, walking out onto the train platform. He was the only person on the platform, a tuxedo cat lounging on the roof of the ticket office the only other living being nearby. He let his rage show on his face, eyes wild as he clutched the pocket watch in his hand. The train was running late. He opened the watch casing, more a reflex than anything. Nestled into the cover was a folded scrap of paper. He unfolded it, his face like thunder. 

_My dear rival, next time I shall steal your heart._

* * *

Akira watched Akechi's look of rage through Morgana's eyes, the voyeuristic thrill only adding to the experience. He could feel Arsene's claws press into his bare chest, arms caging him to the hellishly warm body behind him. 

"Rage suits him," he said, smiling. "I can't wait to see him again." 

_He is a worthy rival. A worthy prize._

Akira could feel the sigh in Arsene's voice. Evidently the demon was rather taken with the Detective Prince as well. He mentally called Morgana away and cut the connection. He turned in Arsene's arms, meeting the demon's eyes with a sheepish smile. 

"You're not angry at me for giving them back?" he asked, trailing a finger down the mask-like face. 

_I was at first. But I could not remain angry with thee._

Arsene's hand traced down his ribs, greedy and tight around him. He looked odd in the sunlight that filtered through the curtains, like he wasn't made for the light of day. But there was something about having this creature here, like this, in the bed that his ill-gotten gains had bought, that sent a spark of excitement down Akira's spine. 

"You are entirely too good to me," he murmured, tangling his fingers with Arsene's, brushing a whispered kiss over the sharp knuckles. 

Arsene laughed, flipping them over and pressing Akira into the mattress. Blade-sharp kisses were pressed into his collarbone, the laughter continuing as if there were nothing there to impede the noise. Akira smiled and gave himself over to the moment. It was fortunate that they didn't need to catch their train to the Sakamoto estate for some time yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was intending to introduce Akechi at a later point in the narrative, but then I remembered the story "Sherlock Holmes Arrives Too Late". It's just such a great "Fuck you" moment that I couldn't resist mixing it into my fic.


	4. Outrage Worse Than Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Responding to an invitation to the Sakamoto estate, Akira expects it to be little more than a pleasant diversion for a few days. But rather than the country idyll that he was anticipating, he finds a mother and son besieged on all sides by those intent on profiting from their ancestral title.

**June 1895**

Ryuji woke up to the sky dark and thunderous overhead, clear evidence of a storm coming later in the day, and a throbbing ache in his leg. Not only would he have to deal with Kamoshida being his usual charmless self, he would also have to deflect his mother's would-be suitor whilst in a fair amount of pain. He couldn't think of many ways that his day could get worse. 

It was still early by the time he had finished his morning routine. He padded down the stairs to get his mother's tea ready, listening in briefly at the door of his father's bedroom. He knew that there was no rational reason for him to listen out for his father's hungover bursts of anger anymore, but there was always a part of him that could never quite believe that the man was truly gone. It was nearly seven years to the day since he had disappeared, the house now an oasis of calm in his violent wake. Or at least it had been until a couple of months before. 

Ryuji passed the guest room that Kamoshida was staying in on the way back to his mother's room, and the temptation to lock him in was hard to resist. He just needed a day where he didn't have to block such obvious gold digging, just a day to himself. After seven years as a missing person, his father would be legally dead, and good riddance to him. The problem was that with each passing day, his mother got more attention from desperate "gentlemen" who were only interested in her late husband's land and title. And of all of them, Kamoshida was by far the worst. 

Reaching his mother's locked door, he placed the tea to one side and knocked. 

"Morning Ma. Got tea ready for you," he said. 

There was a short pause before the door was unlocked, his mother peering around it. She smiled up at him and ushered him into her room. It was locked behind him as soon as he'd passed the threshold. 

"You don't have to keep doing this for me," she said, gathering her robe tighter around her. "We did hire Mishima for a reason." 

"I feel bad waking him up so early. Besides, it's no trouble," Ryuji said, pouring out a cup. 

He didn't mention that this was the only point of their day where they could speak in private anymore. He missed when it was just the two of them rattling about this decrepit house. His mother seemed to share the sentiment, rubbing a soothing hand down his arm. They settled by the window, limbs sinking into the worn, sun-bleached armchairs. 

"I need you to entertain a new guest today," she said, looking over the overgrown grounds outside. 

"Another suitor?" Ryuji asked, the distaste evident on his face. 

His mother laughed and replied, "No, I intend to spend my day 'indisposed', so you needn't worry about that. In any case, this particular gentleman is about your age, so it would be a disadvantageous match for him." 

She paused and looked at Ryuji through her eyelashes. 

"He's a merchant by the name of Amamiya, quite the up-and-comer if I've heard correctly. He might be a good contact if you want to establish yourself in the capital," she continued. 

Ryuji sighed and looked away. 

"Are you sure you'll be okay by yourself? Kamoshida isn't going to take no for an answer once the seven year limit runs out. The only thing stopping him right now is that you're technically not a widow yet," he said. 

"Don't you worry about me. I'll find some kind of protection before that day comes. Even if I do remarry, I assure you that it will not be to Kamoshida." 

Hatred was not an expression that sat well on her face, warm brown eyes narrowed against the light, round face tensed. Ryuji shifted in his seat, a pulse of pain shooting down his right thigh. He tried to ignore it, but he'd never had much luck with schooling his expression. He watched his mother's face tighten further. 

"If I could make him pay for what he did to you, you know I would, don't you?" she said. 

"Not if I pay him back first," Ryuji said, smiling tightly. 

"That's the spirit," she said, softening a little. "Please, just spend a little time with our new guest, if only so that you can have some company with someone your own age for once. I worry that looking after me is limiting your chances in life." 

Ryuji leaned over and took her free hand in both of his. 

"Don't talk like that. I'm here because I want to be. But... if it would make you happy, I'm sure I can give this guy the tour of the grounds."

* * *

_I can kill him if that is thy wish._

Akira sipped his coffee, wishing that he could seriously consider the offer. As a demon, Arsene's idea of problem solving usually defaulted to "who can I kill to make this go away?" Much as Akira appreciated the idea, that was rarely, if ever, the way forward. But Lord if it wasn't tempting in this exact moment. The other guest at the Sakamoto estate, a former rugby player by the name Suguru Kamoshida, had been bending his ear for the last 45 minutes with the most inane, self-absorbed drivel, and the urge to brain him with his coffee cup had been mounting. Thankfully, he was interrupted by the door to the morning room opening. 

"Ah, the young master of the house," Kamoshida said, tensing ever so slightly. "Will the lady of the house be joining us?" 

Sakamoto scowled and said, "She's not feeling well today." 

Kamoshida frowned. 

"That was what she said yesterday too. Should we be concerned for our gracious hostess?" 

"Just a persistent headache," Sakamoto said coolly, staring Kamoshida dead in the eye. "I'm sure she'll get rid of it eventually." 

They stared each other down for a few moments more before Ryuji turned away decisively. 

"So I'm guessing you're Amamiya?" Sakamoto said, extending a hand. "I've been told to give you the grand tour." 

Akira gripped the offered hand, flashing him a grateful smile. 

Sakamoto inclined his head briefly to Kamoshida and said, "You can entertain yourself for the day, right?" 

He didn't wait for an answer before he was dragging Akira out of the room. Akira breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Thank you for the save, Sakamoto. I wasn't sure how much longer I'd be able to handle him by myself." 

His host smiled widely, a bright laugh erupting from his lips. Akira felt his heart flutter in his chest, unaccustomed to such immediate openness in the nobles that he'd dealt with previously. 

"He's a pain. I'm sorry you were stuck with him for so long. Oh, and enough with the formality. I'd rather you call me Ryuji." 

Akira smiled, the first time it had felt genuine for a long while. 

"In that case, my name is... Ren." 

Ryuji shot him a confused look. 

"You hesitated," he said. 

Akira smiled quickly, and replied, "I'm not used to being on a first-name basis with people. I have no siblings and my parents aren't with us anymore. Quite honestly, I'm not used to dealing with people outside of formal and business settings." 

The lie slipped from his tongue with ease. After five years, it was easy to pretend that this had always been the truth. Ryuji shrugged.

"Fair enough. I can understand that." 

They had reached the garden, an overgrown mass of climbing plants and trees. It was more akin to a forest than any kind of formal garden, dark and foreboding in an oddly fairy-tale way. Akira liked it. It was refreshingly wild. 

"Do you mind if I ask you something?" he said, adjusting his pince-nez. 

"Sure, go ahead." 

"There's obviously no love lost between you and Kamoshida, so why let him stay?" 

Ryuji's expression soured, brown eyes glaring down at the moist soil beneath his feet. 

"He's the neighbour that owns the land on our closest border, and could cause us a lot of problems if he felt spited. Until we can find a way to block his advances towards my mother permanently, it's easier to humour him than to outright insult him. I did that once and I really don't want to repeat the experience," he said, words coming slowly, like they were being forcibly pried from his throat. 

"He's one to watch out for?" 

"Yeah. He likes to break people. I just happen to have pulled myself back together." 

Ryuji resumed walking out into the wilderness of the garden, evidently finished with this line of conversation. Akira couldn't help but notice that his host walked with a pronounced limp, listing heavily to the left. 

_Sometimes things are more beautiful after they have been repaired_. 

Arsene's whispers were not helping the confused flutterings in Akira's chest. Not at all.

* * *

The brat and his mother were avoiding him. Irritating, but still something that Kamoshida could work with. He tried the handle to the late Lord Sakamoto's room, pleasantly surprised to find it unlocked. The hinges squealed from disuse, the noise almost covering the sound of the young servant's protests. 

"Mr Kamoshida, please, I must ask that you not enter that room," the servant said, his voice shaking. 

"Your master instructed me to amuse myself today, and that is what I intend to do," Kamoshida replied, lips stretched in a cruel smile. 

No-one had been in this room for months, maybe even years. The dust swirled around his feet in clouds as he walked in and surveyed its contents. Mishima darted in front of him, and attempted to herd him back out. 

"Please, don't make me ask again. This room is off-limits to guests," he said, extending his arms out to block any further entry. 

Kamoshida smirked and wrapped a hand around one of the younger man's skinny wrists. He squeezed until he could feel the bones grinding and the servant was shaking and whining in his grip. 

"If your master is so concerned about me being here, why don't you fetch him and make him remove me himself?" he asked, pulling the servant in close. 

He tightened his grip briefly before abruptly throwing the limb away like it had personally offended him. He felt a warm glow of satisfaction at the look of pain and fear on the fleeing servant's face. But he couldn't let himself get lost in the moment. The Sakamoto brat would be up any minute and he wanted to make the most of the time that he had alone. With that in mind, he made a bee-line to the locked desk, scattering half-full bottles of booze off the top and pulling his pen-knife out to pry the drawers open.

* * *

Ryuji was just too nice for high society, Akira had decided. The longer he had spent in the other man's company, the more enamoured he found himself. Outside the confines of the house, where they can stretch their legs and get away from Kamoshida's pushiness, Ryuji seems to flourish. The anger that Akira had seen earlier leeched out, replaced by easy smiles and banter. Their walk lasted as far as the nearby agricultural village before they took a break, Ryuji taking the opportunity to check on the tenant farmers. Akira tried to imagine Shido doing the same for those working his estate, but the image just didn't fit. Shido's response to problems like this would probably be to threaten them with the workhouse or unceremoniously replace them with cheaper labour. 

"Sorry for the wait. I haven't had a chance to check up on them recently. At the moment there's not much that I can send their way to help them, but I'm hoping that should change soon," Ryuji said, rejoining him. 

"It's fine. I was just thinking that you seem to be well-liked around here." 

Ryuji shrugged, a bashful smile on his face. 

"They're under my care, so I'm only doing what I can. I never got on with my schooling, so there's only so much that I'll be able to provide them," he said, scrubbing a hand through short blonde hair. 

In the distance, there was a peal of thunder, Ryuji wincing at the sound. The weather had been threatening to turn all morning, but evidently their luck was running out. 

"Do you mind if we head back now? I'd hoped to head out a bit further, but I'm afraid that my leg doesn't fare well in this sort of weather," Ryuji said, his smile dropping. 

"Of course. Don't make yourself uncomfortable on my account," Akira said, clapping his host on the back. 

He linked arms with Ryuji as they turned to head back. It was perhaps a little forward, given that they had only known each other since the morning, but there was something about Ryuji's presence that he wanted to get closer to. It was a pity that Lady Sakamoto's request that he could get Ryuji involved in his merchant work would have to be rejected. Much as he liked the idea of seeing more of Ryuji around the capital, there was only so close that he could get without realising that his legitimate business links were tenuous at best, only robust enough to act as a front. His train of thought was interrupted by the sight of Mishima running up to meet them at the gate to the house. 

"What's the problem, Mishima?" Ryuji said, frowning. 

Mishima swept the hair out of his eyes as he panted, the shadows of bruising already starting to show on his wrist. 

"I'm so sorry, I tried to stop him," he said, looking like he was preparing himself for a scolding. 

"Calm yourself," Akira said, placing a gentle hand on Mishima's shoulder. "Can you elaborate?" 

"Of course. Kamoshida let himself into Lord Sakamoto's room. I tried to make him leave, but that... didn't go well." 

Ryuji's face was instantly thunderous, eyes fixed on the servant's injured wrist. Mishima continued with his account. 

"I didn't want to get Lady Sakamoto involved in case Kamoshida lost his temper, but I couldn't find you on the grounds." 

"You did fine, Yuuki. You stay with Ren and I'll go sort this out. Ren, can you make sure that he gets his wrist looked at?" Ryuji said. 

Akira barely had the time to nod before Ryuji was flashing him a fierce grin and sprinting up to the house. Akira knew that running on whatever injury had caused Ryuji's limp must have been insanely painful, but there was still a covetous part of his brain that was making note of the lines of the other man's body as he ran. He could feel Arsene's chuckle echo around his abdomen. Compared to Ryuji, his and Mishima's pace seemed positively leisurely. They made their way to the servant's quarters, Akira forcing Mishima to sit and be tended to as shouting filtered down from the floor above. Mishima fidgeted throughout the entire process of getting his wrist bandaged, clearly unhappy with the current situation. 

"Sit still, or I'll have to start over," Akira said. 

"My apologies, Mr Amamiya. I'm just worried about the young master." 

"I'm sure that he'll keep himself safe. Ryuji seems like he can hold his own." 

Mishima didn't look assured by Akira's words, listening out for further shouting. Akira sighed. 

"I don't want you getting involved when you're already injured. If I take a look, will you stay here?" 

Mishima nodded, looking relieved already. Akira headed back outside and made sure no-one was watching, summoning Morgana to him. The cat looked around, confused. 

"Hey Joker. Are you sure you meant to summon me? It's daylight still." 

"Yes, I know. Please don't use code names for the moment. I need to use your eyes to find Ryuji Sakamoto." 

Morgana's eyes narrowed, sifting through Akira's memories. 

"That guy? Really?" 

"Yes, that guy. Don't give me that tone either," Akira snapped. 

The cat sighed and leapt away onto the nearest windowsill. 

"And what do you want me to do once I find him?" 

"Watch as closely as you can, but don't get caught. He's in the middle of an argument, and I don't want you getting in the middle of it." 

"That I can do." 

Akira watched Morgana begin his search, then retreated into the tree-line. He didn't want to get too far from the house, in case he was needed, but the risks of being discovered were enough that he could potentially have to start over with another fake identity. Finding a comfortable enough nook to rest in, he opened up the mental link between himself and Morgana. For a few moments, he saw his vision cloud over with golden mist, long enough for his mind to adjust to the new sensory information he was receiving from the cat. Morgana was leaping between windowsills, heading towards the sounds of shouting, dimmed somewhat beneath the rolls of thunder now starting in earnest. He eventually made it to the outside of the window to Kamoshida's guest room, where he could see two figures. Sat down at a small side table covered in papers, his back to the window, was Kamoshida. He was flicking through a stack of papers, ignoring the other man in the room. Ryuji was stood just past the doorway, shouting and gesturing with what looked to be several months' worth of accumulated venom and anger. The shouting could just about be heard through the glass, but to parse it would be a challenge. Kamoshida glanced towards the window, a look of irritation on his face as he said something, probably only a single word by the look of his lip movements. Whatever it was, it seemed to hit Ryuji like a punch to the stomach, all the colour draining from his face. Kamoshida waited until he was certain that he had Ryuji's attention, then threw a sheet of paper his host's way. As Ryuji picked it up with trembling fingers, Akira realised that it was a photograph of some kind. Ryuji was staring at the photograph in blank horror, his former anger forgotten. Kamoshida continued talking for a couple minutes more, evidently not needing Ryuji's input anymore. Akira swore and cut off the connection, running back up to the house. 

By the time he had reached Kamoshida's room, the door was closed. Akira rapped on the door, concerned by the lack of sound from within. The door was soon answered by Kamoshida, a calm smile on his face. A quick glance into the room behind him assured Akira that Ryuji was no longer there. He smiled, glad for once that his public persona was that of a meek, nervous man. He wasn't sure how he would have masked his concern otherwise. 

"Ah, Mr Amamiya. To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

"Please forgive my intrusion. I was looking for our host, and was informed that he was speaking with you." 

Kamoshida's smile took on a cruel set for a brief moment, quick enough that Akira was sure that he would have missed it if he didn't know what he was looking for. 

"I was, but our discussion ended not too long ago. I believe he returned to his rooms," Kamoshida said. 

"Thank you," Akira said, bowing slightly. 

He turned away before Kamoshida could coax him into further conversation, darting over to the next corridor where the main bedrooms were situated. He found Ryuji's room locked, Lady Sakamoto stood outside, wringing her hands. She looked over at the sound of his footsteps, brown eyes wide with worry. 

"Mr Amamiya, do you know what happened to Ryuji? I tried to catch him as he went past my room just now, but it was like he didn't even hear me. He's locked himself in his room now," she said, one hand curling around the door handle. 

_Let us deal with this delicately._

Akira nodded slightly and replied, "I'm afraid that I don't know the specifics, but he was just speaking to Mr Kamoshida. I wanted to speak to him afterwards, but he left before I had the chance." 

There was a dark look in Lady Sakamoto's eyes at the mention of Kamoshida. Her hand clenched compulsively around the door handle. Akira smiled gently and removed the hand from the door, cradling it gently in both of his. 

"Do you mind if I try and speak to him? I want to see if I'm in a position to help," he said. 

She hesitated and looked to the door again. 

"Please. He has been splendid company to one as friendless in society as I, and I only wish to return the favour," Akira said, a little surprised to find that he meant it. 

Her eyes softened at that, a weak smile on her face. 

"Of course. He probably didn't want to worry me," she said, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes. 

Akira nodded and accompanied her back to her rooms. He waited until he could no longer hear her moving around to move back to Ryuji's room. He crouched and peered through the keyhole, noting that the key had been left in the keyway. He sighed, pulling out a set of lockpicks from the inside pocket of his frock coat. He glanced to either side, pushing the pick and tension wrench in once he was certain that he was alone. The pins were a little stiff, but it wasn't enough to seriously inconvenience him. He turned the wrench the rest of the way, the door opening with a soft click. Pushing into the room, he found Ryuji collapsed in an armchair, his head in one hand, the photograph dangling from the fingers of the other hand hanging limply over the armrest. At the sound of the door, Ryuji turned his head, eyes concerningly blank for a moment. There was a brief look of confusion. 

"I thought I locked that..." he said, voice soft. 

Akira closed the door behind him. 

"I came to see how you were doing. You seemed shaken after seeing Kamoshida." 

Ryuji swallowed thickly, and seemed to be trying to pull himself together. 

"It's fine. Nothing I can't handle," he said. 

Akira narrowed his eyes at that. 

"I know what I saw. I might not know you terribly well, but even I can see that he has you over a barrel. Let me help." 

Ryuji looked at him for a long while, expression calming. He seemed to be weighing up something in his head. 

"Can I trust you?" he asked eventually. 

Akira blinked at the unexpected question. 

"I need to know that whatever we discuss doesn't leave this room. If you can't do that, then I don't need your help," his host continued. 

"I can promise you that." 

Ryuji nodded thoughtfully and said, "Okay. Could you lock the door?" 

Akira turned and locked the door again. He turned back to see that Ryuji had shed his frock coat and waistcoat, and his fingers were working shakily to remove his tie and collar. The photograph lay on a side table, forgotten for now. Akira suppressed a yelp of surprise. Of all the things, he had not anticipated his host stripping in front of him. 

Ryuji nodded towards the photograph and said, "You'll need to see that." 

Akira flushed and headed over to the table, picking up the picture to examine it. On first inspection, he couldn't see what could have concerned Ryuji so much. It was a formal picture of a little girl around 10 years old, stood in front of a fireplace, a spray of what looked like white lilac in her hands, expression partially hidden by the blooms. What could be seen was serious, almost angry, the lips a tight line beneath large dark eyes. A curtain of dark wavy hair tumbled over her shoulders, reaching at least to her knees. Akira frowned and turned the photo over. The only thing on the back was a single word scrawled in pencil that had faded over time: Ryoko. 

He lifted his head from his examination and said, "I'm not sure I understand." 

Ryuji had discarded the collar and tie, and was now opening up the buttons of his shirt, the garment already untucked from his trousers, the braces loose and resting against slim hips. 

"I wasn't always known as Ryuji Sakamoto. That photograph is the last that was taken of me when I was known as Ryoko," he said, his voice trembling a little. 

The first couple of buttons were undone, showing Akira a tantalising flash of collarbone. 

"At first, I told Ma that dressing as a man would make us safer, that people would take us more seriously if I was her son instead. We wouldn't need to wait for my father to wake from his drunken stupors to make a decision. But by the time he'd disappeared, I think we both knew that it was something more than that." 

The shirt was nearly open, Ryuji's hands flicking the last of the buttons open with an unintentional flourish. 

"The plan was that after my father was declared officially dead and we had access to the entirety of the estate and its earnings, I'd be able to head out to the capital and make a living as an independent gentleman, not be beholden to some estate that I couldn't legally lay claim to. No-one but me and Ma would ever know about..." 

Ryuji paused and gestured at his bared body, a look of mild disgust on his face. Through the opening of the shirt, Akira could see a vest laced tightly around the other man's chest, a line of closed hooks and eyes running in a line down the centre. He looked at the misery on Ryuji's face, and knew that he had to respond in some way. 

"So you are a man whose biology has betrayed him," he said, his throat tight like it hadn't been in a long time. "Can I take it that Kamoshida now knows?" 

Ryuji seemed to relax at the acceptance of his condition, some of the tension bleeding from his back and shoulders. 

"Yeah, seems like he took the opportunity to raid my father's personal papers. We don't go in there as a general rule, so I didn't realise that he had so many incriminating documents." 

"Did Kamoshida say what he wants to do with this blackmail material?" 

Ryuji looked nauseous. 

"Either I resume living as Ryoko and marry him, or he'll reveal my secret to the public. I'll likely be sent to an asylum for my unnatural inclinations, and whatever reputation Ma has salvaged over the years will be in ruins. She'd be vulnerable to Kamoshida's advances and I wouldn't be there to stop him." 

He swallowed, eyes dull and focused somewhere in the middle distance. 

"I have to pick the first option, I know that. I can't leave her to pick up the pieces of a mess that I caused. But... he's already broken me once before. I don't want to think of what he'll do to me when he has constant access. I don't want to think about what he'll do knowing..." 

He stopped, jaw clenched as he scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. 

"I just don't want to lose again," he said, voice small and hopeless in the stillness of the room. 

Akira crossed the room and took Ryuji's other hand, gripping it tightly between his own. He could feel rage boiling up in his chest, not sure where his ended and Arsene's began. 

"Thank you for trusting me with this. Do you think you can put your faith in me a little longer?" he asked, his smile dagger-sharp. 

Ryuji nodded, looking at him with curiosity. 

"What do you plan to do?" 

"Right now, I need to make some inquiries, but rest assured, I should have a plan in place by tomorrow. Can you promise to let me know about any developments that come up as soon as you can?" Akira asked. 

"By tomorrow?!" 

"The faster we move, the faster you can be rid of Kamoshida. I know that it's a lot to take in, but I need you to keep me up to date and be ready to carry out whatever orders I give you without hesitation. Can you do that for me?" 

Ryuji nodded after a moment of thought. 

"If you can rid us of Kamoshida, I think I could do just about anything." 

"Good," Akira said, his smile widening. 

They were silent for what felt like hours, Akira running his thumb soothingly over thin knuckles, memorising the feel of the calloused palm against his own. 

"Why though? Why do this for me?" Ryuji said, calmer now. 

Akira thought about it for a moment. He saw Kamoshida's cruel smile in his head, leaning his weight down heavily onto Ryuji's uninjured leg, ignoring the pained attempts to get away. His mind provided a sickening snap, followed by a pained gasp from a throat too hoarse to scream again. Ryuji's gaze going glassy as he slipped into shock. 

_Death awaits him if thou does nothing._

"You were kind to me, without needing an ulterior motive. That is rare for me," he replied. 

They parted ways soon afterwards, and Akira made his way back to his room. He tugged at the bell pull, intent on spending the rest of the evening in a coffee-fuelled trance. 

_What does my master wish of me?_

Arsene's whisper was sensual, but Akira was having none of it tonight. 

"Find whatever you can about Suguru Kamoshida. We destroy him tomorrow." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally get to write the P5 resident good boy! Finally! Although I will say, trying to make him sound natural in a Victorian-style setting has been... interesting, to say the least. I've decided that it will be an opportunity to use some absolutely fabulous Victorian slang, and he will get to say Fuck. Because apparently the modern usage and flexibility of that word has been pretty consistent since the mid-19th century, which is neat.  
> I had to change Kamoshida's sport of choice, mainly because while volleyball was technically invented in 1895, it didn't really leave North America until after WW2, and I've been mostly basing this on the UK and Europe. It would feel weird. So instead, I went for the sport of public school boys that would still allow for Kamoshida's level of strength and aggression.  
> The title is a reference to the poem "Love" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.


	5. The Top of the Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Kamoshida planning to take Ryuji away and force him into marriage, Akira must pull out all the stops to prevent his plan coming to fruition. This leads him and Ryuji to an old, abandoned lodge, where not everything is as innocent as it seems.

**June 1895**

_I return, my dearest._

Akira looked up from the fireplace. Morgana's body stepped out of the shadows, his eyes burning red rather than their usual piercing blue. 

"I take it that you managed to find something?" Akira asked, allowing the cat to climb up into his lap. 

_Indeed. Together, thy familiar and I provoked his nightmares, so that we might see the roots of his guilt._

Wings unfurled from the small body in his lap, and an instant later Arsene was knelt in front of him. The firelight shone through the red-black feathers into their intimate little bubble. 

"So what did you see?" 

_Just across the border of this estate is a hunting lodge, long abandoned. It is here that his fears stem from._

Akira smiled and cupped the demon's face. 

"Very good. We shall visit it tomorrow with Ryuji," Akira said. 

He looked down at Morgana. 

"I want you to get a scope of the land down there. I will need you to know the area like the back of your paw by the morning." 

Morgana made a long-suffering chirp at the command. Akira laughed and lifted the cat to his face. 

"Don't worry, you'll get to have some fun tomorrow because of it. I promise," he said. 

"Fine. The sport had better be entertaining though." 

With an annoyed twitch of his tail, Morgana disappeared into thin air. Akira switched his attention back to Arsene, his expression thoughtful. 

"Ryuji entrusted me with a profound secret today. It feels unfair, to have him at such a disadvantage." 

Arsene stilled, aware of his master's thought process. 

_I will trust in thy judgement. Thou hast not steered us wrong yet._

Akira smiled softly and brought Arsene closer. 

"Your faith humbles me," he said, pressing a chaste kiss to the demon's mouth. 

His smile grew wicked. 

"Perhaps I should reward you for your good work?" 

Arsene twitched violently, the shadows growing deeper around them. Akira paid it no mind, fingers languidly opening his shirt buttons. 

_Please._

There was always such a thrill in getting the demon to beg. His shirt now open, Akira guided a clawed hand over his chest. He waited until he felt five minute stings, then dragged the hand downwards, achingly slowly. 

"A taste of what is to come," he said, letting the hand go. 

Arsene lifted the hand to his face, a tongue of shadow flickering out to lap at the drops hanging heavy from his fingertips. Akira settled back in his chair, blood dripping down his abdomen. Arsene laughed and leaned in close, one hand tilting his master's chin up. The other hand was firmly gripping Akira's thigh, his clawed thumb brushing teasingly at the nearby erection. 

_Thou dost spoil me. I shall be sorry to consume thee once this is all over._

Akira shuddered and gasped at the feeling of that tongue scraping along the fresh wounds. Perhaps this was tempting fate, but after all this time he couldn't find it in himself to care. Right now, all he could think of was arching into those burning arms and letting the night pass with far more enjoyable activities than sleep.

* * *

Ryuji woke up at his usual time the next morning, more from pure habit than any desire to. He couldn't have gotten more than a few hours of broken sleep, and a large part of his brain was begging him to rest some more. He forced himself out of bed regardless. Ren had advised him to go about his day as though everything were normal, to prevent Kamoshida from realising that anything was amiss. He finished his morning routine in a stupor and opened the door to head to the kitchen for Ma's tea. Kamoshida was waiting for him outside the door. 

"Good morning, Ryoko. May I come in?" he said. 

He pushed past Ryuji before the younger man could answer, pulling the door closed behind him. Ryuji scowled and threw himself into the nearest chair. 

"What do you want Kamoshida?" 

Kamoshida decided not to take the chair opposite, instead pacing the room like he owned it. 

"I just wanted to know if you had considered my generous proposal at all since yesterday," Kamoshida replied. "You were so taken aback that I had to make sure that you were fully on board with the idea." 

If Ryuji hadn't hated Kamoshida already, the smug smile on his face at that moment would have done it. He wanted nothing more than to take up the nearby poker and beat his aggravating smile into meaty chunks. He looked away, trying to school his expression. 

"I thought it over. Seems I don't have a choice, do I?" 

Kamoshida smirked at that. 

"No, you don't. Pack your bags once you've spoken to your mother. We leave at noon." 

Ryuji started violently. 

"We're leaving?!" 

"Of course. I doubt your mother would approve of the match, so we'll need to elope." 

Crap. Whatever Ren had planned, it couldn't possibly be ready before noon. 

"Oh. Um... Why so sudden?" Ryuji asked. 

"There's a priest that I know who could see us short notice," Kamoshida said, approaching his chair. "Then, once it's all legal, we can get to work on solidifying that familial link." 

Kamoshida leant into his personal space, eyes focused on Ryuji's expression as his hand rested possessively on the younger man's stomach. Ryuji didn't dare breathe. 

"Who knows, you're slim enough that you might be showing already by the time the estate passes into your name," Kamoshida added, his voice low. 

The thought of Kamoshida breeding him like fucking livestock was enough to make the bile rise up in his throat. Evidently fear was the response Kamoshida had been looking for, a look of satisfaction on his face as he backed off. 

"I'm glad we've come to an understanding. Get ready." 

Kamoshida went to leave. 

"Wait!" Ryuji said, the word out of his mouth automatically. 

The older man paused. 

"I made plans with Amamiya yesterday to continue our walk this afternoon. If I leave before then, won't it provoke suspicion?" Ryuji asked. 

Kamoshida considered the question briefly. 

"You seem to have made a great impression on him, given the amount of time you already spent with him yesterday. He is a man I do not care for," he said. "You shall just have to cancel your outing with him. Tell him whatever you like, I don't much care." 

Ryuji's heart sank. 

"Right." 

"If that's all, I'll be going. Remember, meet me at the crossroads at noon." 

Ryuji nodded once, jaw clenched. He didn't watch Kamoshida leave. He waited until the sound of footsteps had receded and sat at his desk. Scrounging a stack of paper, pen and ink, he tried to write a goodbye letter. If he was going to leave, better that Ma know not to come after him. He started it several times before giving up. He'd never been an eloquent man, and today more than ever he found that the words wouldn't come to him. It was difficult to write something that he knew was guaranteed to break his mother's heart. He stood up and went to prepare tea.

* * *

Akira knew that something had happened as soon as Ryuji entered the morning room, his face white as a sheet and back stiff with tension. He could feel Kamoshida watching them closely as Ryuji approached. 

"Good morning, Ryuji," he said, eyes gentle over his coffee cup. 

"Morning Amamiya. I'm afraid that I have to cancel that walk we had planned for today," Ryuji said, his voice loud in the tense room. "I had some business come up that can't wait. It's likely to take me the rest of the day to straighten out." 

Kamoshida smiled and busied himself with the morning broadsheet. Akira took a sip of coffee, eyes narrowed. Definitely some new developments then. He fixed Ryuji with a reassuring smile. 

"Don't worry about it. These things happen. I'm sure that we can reschedule," he said, loud enough that Kamoshida would hear him clearly. 

He lowered his voice so that only Ryuji could hear him and continued, "I take it that Kamoshida has made his move." 

Ryuji nodded and said, "We meet at noon by the crossroads." 

Akira considered the change in plans. 

"That should be fine. Go along with it for now, but rest assured that I have something in place to stop anything from happening." 

Ryuji cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. 

"I can't elaborate for now, but know that everything is in hand. I promise you that." 

There was a pause, then the blond said, "I trust you."

* * *

Ryuji wasn't sure why, but he had total faith that Ren would keep his promise and help him out of this mess. The other man was pretty meek in larger social groups, but one-on-one it was easy to see that there was a core of iron beneath the polite exterior. And the night before, when he had vowed to help him, there was something almost feral about him. The idea that there was something like that just beneath the surface that only he'd seen was oddly appealing. Not that he'd really had an opportunity to consider that. At all. He was sat on top of his suitcase by the crossroads, foot tapping compulsively as he waited. The fact that he was waiting for Kamoshida only made the waiting worse. It was a little after noon when a brougham pulled up, Kamoshida leaning out of the door. 

"Good, you made it. Get in." 

Ryuji glanced back as he got into the brougham. If Ren's plan was going to work, something would need to happen soon. Sitting down as far away as he could get from Kamoshida, he thought he could see a glint of blue further out in the woods. The door closed before he could make out anything more. He wanted to twitch the curtains back to look out for Ren, but he knew that Kamoshida would be watching him like a hawk until they were long gone. 

They had only been on the road for maybe five minutes when they felt the horses draw to a stop. Kamoshida scowled and rose to a stoop. 

"Why are we stopping?!" he yelled. 

"Sorry sir, something seems to have the horses spooked. I'll try and get them going again," the driver replied. 

Kamoshida had opened his mouth to continue berating the driver, when they heard a deep, gutteral growl from outside. He paled and sat back down. They waited with bated breath as the silence stretched on. Ryuji braced himself in his seat. All of a sudden, the silence was broken by the screams of both horses and the driver. A feline roar echoed through the woods, deafening in their enclosed space. There was a slam on one side of the brougham, accompanied by the sound of cracking wood. Ryuji closed his eyes and waited for it all to be over. The horses gave one last scream before their hoofbeats faded into the distance. The only thing that Ryuji could hear for what seemed like hours was the thunderous roar of his heartbeat in his ears. He opened his eyes when the driver yanked the door of the brougham open, a wild look in his eyes. 

"You never told me there was a beast like that in these woods," the driver said, knuckles white on the door frame. "If I'd known I would have taken a different route." 

Ryuji felt his heart rate settle. Kamoshida tried to pull himself together, but even after several breaths he looked green about the gills. 

"Are we able to continue onwards?" he asked. 

The driver looked at him scathingly. 

"Come and see for yourself, sir." 

Ryuji realised that the carriage was listing heavily to one side and scrambled out after Kamoshida to survey the damage. All along one side of the brougham, the side that Kamoshida had been sitting on, could be seen massive scratch marks. They were larger than any animal that Ryuji had seen before, and they bit deep enough into the wood that light could be seen faintly in places. If it had just been that, it would have been strange enough. But it was clear to see that the wheels on that side had been smashed, as well as the harness keeping the horses tethered to the carriage. It was too calculated to be an animal attack, but too frenzied to be anything but an animal. Looking out into the forest around them, Ryuji couldn't help but wonder if Ren had planned for this. It was an absurd thought, but this was too much of a coincidence otherwise. He started to walk out into the forest.

Kamoshida grabbed his arm and asked, "Where the hell do you think you're going?" 

"I'm going to take a look around, see if I can find what did this." 

"Do you have a death wish?!" 

Ryuji shrugged and pulled his arm out of the older man's grip. 

"If it wanted to kill us, it easily could have. Besides, we're going nowhere right now, and if you think I'm waiting here for hours to get this fixed you have another thing coming." 

Kamoshida seethed at the words. Ryuji smirked a little at the other man's discomfort. 

"What does an extra day matter? I'll be heading back home once I've finished my exploration." 

Ryuji walked away, ignoring the shouts of protest behind him. He headed back the way that they had come until he reached the crossroads again. From there, he delved into the bushes around the point where he had seen that flash of blue. 

"If you want it to stop hurting I need you to stop squirming," he heard further into the woods. 

Heading towards the sound, he soon discovered Ren sat on a tree stump, a cat sat in his lap. One of its paws was gripped in Ren's hand, ears flattened against its head as he picked at something in the paw pad. 

"Got it," Ren said with a smile. 

Between his fingers was a long splinter of dark lacquered wood, much like the carriage that Ryuji had just abandoned. Ren shifted his attention to Ryuji. 

"It's good to see that you managed to get away. I presume Kamoshida will be heading back to the house?" he asked, voice light. 

"Once he manages to get another carriage. I don't see him wanting to hoof it through the woods," Ryuji said. "I'm guessing you were involved in that attack on the brougham then?" 

Ren's smile turned sly. 

"Whatever could you mean? I am but a humble merchant, not some master of wild beasts." 

Ryuji stilled, thinking the situation over. 

"I never mentioned an animal at all," he said thoughtfully. 

Ren seemed to deflate somewhat under Ryuji's subdued observation. 

"I apologise for my method if that has upset you. It was the best I could do with such short notice," he said, toying with a lock of hair nervously. 

"It's not that. Honestly, after it was over it was worth it to see Kamoshida so scared. I just... If this means what I think it means, then you're trusting me with an awful lot. Are you sure about that?" 

Ren's gaze softened into what Ryuji could only describe as affectionate. 

"I'm sure. I'd rather not spill the details here, but it only seems fair after all the trust you put in me yesterday." 

Ryuji felt a grin stretch across his face. 

"Thanks, Ren. So do you want to head back to the house or is there something else you have planned?" 

"There is a lodge just over the border into Kamoshida's estate that I want to take a look at. Do you want to come with me?" 

"Sure, sounds good. It'll be a hell of a walk there though." 

"Don't worry, I brought horses. Mishima was most obliging when I told him that they were needed to get rid of your persistent unwanted guest." 

They saddled up the horses, and were about to head off when Ren hesitated. 

"By the way, my name isn't actually Ren. When we're alone, I wouldn't mind you calling me by my real name," he said, voice low. 

Oh, right, that made sense. If he were some kind of illegal magic user it would make sense to work under a false name. 

"If that's okay with you." 

"It is," Ren said, proffering a hand. "My name is Akira Kurusu. Nice to make your acquaintance."

* * *

It was a couple hours ride to the lodge, a journey that took them through the heavy forest on the outskirts of the Sakamoto estate, and out onto a series of gently rolling hills. Ryuji was quieter than he had been on their walk the day before, which worried Akira more than he would otherwise like to admit. Shortly before they reached the lodge, Akira moved his horse closer. 

"Are you okay? You've been rather subdued today," he asked. 

Ryuji nodded quickly, a sheepish grin on his face. 

"I'm fine. Sorry, I was just thinking." 

"Penny for your thoughts?" 

"It's nothing major, just... I could swear that I've heard your name before. Your real one, I mean." 

Akira frowned and said, "I imagine that you saw my name in the papers. This would have been just over five years ago." 

Ryuji puzzled over it for a moment. 

"The Ark Diamonds?" Akira prompted. 

"Oh. Oh! I remember now!" 

Ryuji looked him over. 

"I wouldn't have pegged you as the type." 

Akira smirked and said, "At the time I wasn't. I was framed by someone who wanted me to suffer." 

Ryuji frowned, flushing. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to..." 

They crested the hill, and below them they could see the lodge. 

"Don't worry about it. It just means that I'm less inclined to let it happen to others," Akira said, a hard smile on his face. "And on that subject, we can start with getting Kamoshida out of your life." 

The lodge was a solid stone building, a collection of harsh angles that stuck out from the gentle curves of the valley, a gauche stamp of dominance over the landscape. There was a path leading up to the front of the property, but it was evident that it hadn't been used for some time, weeds encroaching slowly but surely from the edges of the gravelled area inwards. The large windows were shuttered and dark, looking over them as they approached. The door was boarded shut by a pair of crossed wooden planks nailed into place. Ryuji surveyed their surroundings warily. 

"So this belongs to Kamoshida, huh? Weird that he's not making use of this place," he said. 

Akira nodded. 

"Besides the obvious disuse, I can't see anything wrong with the property," he agreed. 

They stepped up to the door, listening for any kind of movement or sign that they weren't alone. There was nothing but the whistle of the wind overhead. Akira pulled at the wooden boards, the rotten wood breaking away easily under his fingers. He tried the door, but found it to be locked. He pulled out his lock pick and knelt down to take a look. Ryuji looked at him and realised something. 

"Hey, did you break into my room last night?" he asked. 

"Guilty as charged I'm afraid. I was worried about you and didn't think you'd answer if I knocked." 

Ryuji considered that for a moment. 

"Promise you won't make a habit of it?" 

"Emergencies only, I swear." 

Akira continued to move the pick and wrench in the lock for a couple of minutes before pulling them out in disgust. 

"The mechanism is jammed. Just our luck," he said, pocketing his picks again. 

Ryuji grinned and waved him out the way. The blond braced himself and drove his heel into the door just beside the lock. It took a couple kicks like that before the door broke away from the lock, hinges squealing as the door swing open. Ryuji looked over at him and smiled. 

"I've always wanted to do that," he said. 

Arsene laughed, a surprised rumble in Akira's head. Akira was going to join in when Ryuji cocked his head, peering into the dark interior of the lodge. 

"Can you hear that?" Ryuji asked. "I think... Is that a clock?" 

Akira stepped into the lodge, allowing Arsene's superior senses to take over. Immediately he noted the ticking that Ryuji had heard, along with a low whir of clockwork. 

"Yes, a grandfather clock to be precise," Akira said. "Strange, they have to be rewound everyday to keep time." 

Ryuji frowned and said, "But we're the first people in here for years." 

"Exactly." 

They moved through to a sitting room, the grandfather clock in question sat by the door. Akira busied himself looking at the clock, while Ryuji wandered further into the room. It was still full of furniture, set up to receive people. There was even a newspaper still left on a sideboard. If there hadn't been a thick layer of dust over everything, Akira would have been concerned about someone walking on on them. The only other thing that struck him as odd were the display cases mounted on the walls, each of them open and empty. Akira made a mental note of all this, opening the clock to examine what was causing this phantom ticking. It didn't take him long to spot the oddity in the clock's cavity. He reached in and pulled out a telescope, the bottle green case battered and scratched all along one side. 

"How strange," he said, turning the telescope over in his hands. 

When Ryuji didn't react to the comment, Akira turned to check on him. Ryuji had crossed over to the sideboard, the newspaper in his hands. He was looking at the yellowing pages with concern. Akira looked over his shoulder, curious about what could have possibly piqued the other man's interest. The headline seemed to be about a murder in Whitechapel. 

"What have you found? You don't think Kamoshida is the elusive Jack the Ripper, do you?" 

Ryuji frowned. 

"It's not that. It's the date." 

Akira's eyes flickered up to the date at the top of the page. September 5th 1888. 

"I suppose that must have been the date that the lodge was abandoned," Akira said. 

"It's the day that my father went missing." 

"Oh," Akira said, mouth stretching into a cat-like grin. "Well, that seems significant." 

He could feel the pieces coming together in his mind. They just needed to make a few more connections. Ryuji looked down, noticing the telescope for the first time. 

"Uh... Where did you get that?" he asked. 

"The grandfather clock." 

"Huh. Any idea why it was there?" 

"No idea. But I have a way of finding out. It will involve an introduction." 

"An introduction?" 

"Yes, to my long-term companion. Arsene?" 

The shadows at Akira's back lengthened and shifted, becoming more substantial under Ryuji's gaze. Arsene's form unfolded from these shadows until he stood at least a for taller than them, wings extending with a flourish. Ryuji stared at the demon, eyes wide. 

"Arsene, this is Ryuji. Be nice, okay?" 

" _Charmed, I'm sure_ ," Arsene said, bowing slightly. 

Ryuji still hadn't said anything, but he seemed more intrigued by Arsene's presence than fearful. Akira thought that was a good sign. 

"You sound like Akira," Ryuji said eventually. "Only a bit deeper." 

Akira pondered that for a moment. 

"I'd never noticed it before, but it makes sense. He did give me my voice after all." 

Arsene chuckled and said, " _Perhaps that is a story for another time. I presume that thou summoned me for some purpose?_ " 

"Of course. I need to see how this telescope got in the clock. It was nearly seven years ago though. Will that be a problem?" Akira asked. 

Arsene plucked the telescope from his hand, rotating it delicately between his claws. A shadowy tongue whipped out and tasted the air. 

" _There does appear to be some trace left. Thou art fortunate that there has been no presence here other than thine._ " 

Arsene wrapped his wings around himself, a blue-black energy building between his clawed hands. After a few moments, the demon slammed the gathered magic into the floor, the energy washing out to coat the entire room. Ryuji felt it pass through him and shivered, while Akira seemed unaffected by it. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Ryuji could see a blue figure rushing around the room, movements hurried but purposeful. Akira prowled closer to the figure and frowned. 

"No features, but I can't imagine that it would be anyone besides Kamoshida," he said. 

The figure seemed to be crossing the room between the display cabinets and the door outside, arms extended like it was carrying something. After a couple of passes bringing whatever was in the cases out of the lodge, the figure paused in the middle of the room, making one last look around. Its head jerked upwards and it headed to the other door out of the room, leading further into the building. There was a long time where the figure couldn't be seen, the excess magic still sparking in the air. Eventually the figure reappeared, hand wrapped around a single circular object. It reached the clock and pulled where the door was, then leaned into the cavity, forcing whatever was in his hand far into the space. It moved to close the door and left the room, at which point the magic dissipated. 

" _Intriguing._ " 

Akira nodded and said, "So Kamoshida cleared out those display cases first, then decided to hide the telescope in the clock. He must have forced it far enough into the clock that the mechanism was blocked, meaning that it didn't have any chance to run down over the following years." 

"So why did it start up when we came in?" Ryuji asked. 

"Presumably you kicking the door in knocked it enough that it fell out of its place. The real question is why would he go to such great lengths to hide it?" 

" _It speaks of a guilty conscience,_ " Arsene said, the smile on his face widening. 

Akira thought it over, frowning. 

"What is there to even see from here? We're at the bottom of a valley, and the house has ornamental trees surrounding it on all sides." 

Ryuji had moved to the door that the figure had gone through to retrieve the telescope.

Looking through, he said, "There's a set of stairs upstairs. I did see a belvedere at the top of the house, so maybe this leads there?" 

Akira and Arsene shared a look and smiled. 

"That would put us above the tree-line. Shall we take a look?" 

Ryuji grinned at the suggestion, waving them both through. They ignored the first floor and continued upwards until they met the open air of the belvedere. Their burst of confidence flagged somewhat at the sight of the high parapet surrounding the perimeter of the space at the top of the house. Plaster lines were dotted periodically around the walls, evidently where there had once been arrowslits that had been filled in at a later date. Akira frowned and had Arsene boost him up to see over the top of the parapet. 

"See anything?" Ryuji said. 

"The only thing other than more hill is a ruined tower. It's, what, eight hundred yards from the house?" 

Akira gestured in the direction that the tower lay in comparison to the lodge. Ryuji headed over to that wall, and quickly spotted something of an oddity. 

"Hey, Akira?" 

"Yes?" 

"There aren't any other plants up here, are there?" 

Akira glanced round and saw no greenery. 

"No. Why, have you found something?" 

"Maybe." 

Akira went to join Ryuji by one of the blocked arrowslits, and saw a single dried up weed drooping from a dried clod of earth stuffed into the middle of the plaster. They looked at each other. 

"Well," Akira said, "that is odd. Want to bet that the telescope fits into that hole?" 

"I'd put money on it," Ryuji replied, already loosening his shirt cuffs to push his sleeves up. 

Ryuji dug the dirt out of the hole, Akira extending the telescope to its full length while he worked. Once the dirt had been cleared, they found a hole that pierced straight through the plaster. Akira slid the telescope into the hole, where it fit perfectly. He tried to move the lens, but the hole had been carved in such a way that it could only look at a single point in the distance. He lowered his eye to the scope and adjusted it to suit his vision. He stood unmoving for some thirty seconds or more, the breath caught in his throat. 

"We have him," he said, an odd tone to his voice. "See for yourself." 

Ryuji bent to take a look. It took him a moment to figure out what he was seeing, but the shock once his brain pieced it together was enough to send him staggering back. The telescope was focused on the top of the ruined tower, a black scar on the landscape being consumed by ivy. Atop a heap of rubble, was what he had initially assumed was a scarecrow. But the longer he looked, the more details his eye picked out. The fabric of the clothes, bleached by the sun and frayed by the elements, was still intact enough in places that it was possible to pick out what must have once been immaculate tailoring. The mottled green, purple and white that he had initially taken to be stained sackcloth was the remains of rotting flesh clinging to delicate white bone, a hole punched in the middle of the skull's forehead. They had found a corpse, long ago murdered and left for the crows to pick at. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been looking forward to writing this bit pretty much since I conceived of this fic, so I can only hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first crack at a Persona 5 fic, and the intent for this is to be a mix of the Persona 5 storyline (the original, not Royal since I haven't played that one) and a handful of Arsene Lupin stories, primarily "The Eight Strokes of the Clock". I hope it works out well.


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